Flash of Moments
by dreamerchaos
Summary: Little moments in time…like the frozen image in a Polaroid…Life amongst the District and alongside the rest of the outsiders.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Flash of Moments

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: Wikus centered. Later ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: R

Warnings: Language. Slash (and slash hints) between an alien and a human.

Summary: Little moments in time…like the frozen image in a Polaroid…Before and after District 9.

Author's note: I blame stumbling across the many authors, but especially swipeatronspark's livejournal, for luring me into this world. XD

* * *

**I. First meeting**

Wikus was around six years old when he met his first prawn.

Unlike his other schoolmates, he didn't scream and run at the sight of the tall, thin clacking creature. Instead, the young boy, short blond hair spiked and gleaming underneath the hot sun, tilted his head in quandary of the large creature.

"Hi." He chirped.

The much larger prawn tilted its head as well. Covered with dust and dirt, dark plating a mottled gleam with the rays of the hot South African sun. Clacking its mandibles, tentacles writhing around its mouth. Pondering the small organic creature. Its hands relaxing, the hitched claws drooping, considering the young human as not a threat.

"You're dressed kind of funny." Said with the innocence of a child. Lacking derision or cruel laughter.

The prawn considers the tattered clothes hanging from its own chest and waist.

"But that's okay." Wikus' hands rustle the thin plastic bag between his hands, his lunch box spread out at his feet, the young boy sitting comfortably on the ground while the prawn hovers not too far away, "At least you're not naked." The child squelches his face in an expression of distaste, "One of the kids lost his britches when we went swimming in the slew. The other kids laughed at him for a while."

The curled mandibles clattered and clicked in a series of undistinguishable syllables. A large eye following the young boy as Wikus fiddles with his sandwich bag.

Wikus looks from the prawn, and then down to his food. "…Are you hungry?" He asks.

The prawn clatters with a tinge of excitement and desperation. Crouching down onto all fours, and taking a few cautious steps toward the human.

"If you want it…" Wikus held out the sandwich bag, "My mom made tomato and mayonnaise; even though I've told her a billion times that I hate mayonnaise."

Wikus blinks when the sandwich immediately vanishes from his hand. The prawn snarling eagerly, ripping into the thin, flexing bag, gnashing the sandwich with ravenous glee.

"You're not supposed to eat the bag!" Wikus chides.

* * *

**II. And He Has Gone**

It's been little over a month since Christopher has gone, taking the mother ship back to the home planet.

And Wikus is utterly miserable.

Piss-poor pathetic at scrounging for food amongst the trash heaps, and far worse at scratching up a hovel in which to curl and sleep. He hasn't found an unoccupied shack, and isn't willing or daring enough to test his luck with the much larger prawns.

His transformation complete, Wikus is slowly learning to adapt and handle his long claws to pick through the twisted maze of trash and metal. Probably because he was once human, his Prawn body is smaller and even thinner than the other inhabitants of District 9, giving the man – the prawn – a pathetically sickly look as he delicately steps through trash bags filled with glass and broken cans.

He unearths a miniscule treasure amongst the next rubbish heap he scrabbles his way through. A torn plastic container, with the sliver of rain water gathered within the base.

When human, Wikus would have scoffed and gagged at the thought of drinking the filthy water, a dull brown from dust and exposure.

But now, he shakily drops to his knees, cupping the container, tilting the liquid into his parched mouth. The short tentacles overlapping his lips wriggling with gratification as he dry throat is quenched. The liquid is slick like oil, with a rusty tang, but he greedily drains the sliver of water before it can go to waste.

The water is drained all too soon. Wikus tilts the empty container, a low moan of despair trickling from his mandibles as he shakes the cracked plastic trough, not a single drop remaining.

* * *

**III. His Allies**

Perhaps it is because he is such a pathetic sight, even to the other prawns, that finally they cannot ignore his sorry state any longer.

Wikus shrieks and trills when he is unceremoniously scooped up from his shallow hole in the ground at the base of a tall trash pile, having only just settled in half an hour ago for another chilly night of sleep. Kicking and flailing, the smaller prawn's claws drag grooves in the dirt as he is so easily dragged from underneath his nest of newspapers and rotting blankets.

The large prawn is joined by another, both wrestling with the shrilling prawn while the smaller tries to wriggle free and crawl away.

"No no no no—" Wikus moans, his ankles grasped by the strong hands. Tugged backwards away from his hole when he tries to crawl back underneath the shelter of his matted heap of blankets and stained newspapers.

Mandibles clack in disapproval at his behavior. The two prawns chattering together, the larger pair half carries, half dragging the whining prawn through the dust.

Wikus struggles anew when they begin to tug the resisting prawn through the doorway of a metal shack. The smaller prawn clinging onto the askew frame of the entrance, before one of the prawns carefully peels his claws free from the flimsy wood.

"-didn't do anything!" His speech warbles, Wikus understanding their language with more skill than he can speak it, learning to use his curled mandibles to enunciate the clicks and growls. "Let go back!" He babbles.

He is dropped down into the thick nest of blankets, newspapers, and cardboard. The nest isn't pristine, but it is far nicer and less dirty than his.

Wikus hides his face in a pile of crumbled newspaper while the prawns continue to chatter. Squeaking when one crawls into the nest, wrapping its long, strong arms around his shoulders when he tries to dart away.

He wriggles helplessly, confused and terrified when the large prawn presses a hand to the thick carapace of his temple, nudging the smaller prawn to lay his head on a broader chest.

Immediately the larger prawn's chest begins to hum, the rolling ripple of sound causing Wikus to momentarily halt his struggles. The arms around him tightening further.

The prawn tracks its other hand down the curved spines of his back, purring and trilling to the smaller prawn in the manner prawns used to sooth their young. Wikus shuddering, unconsciously relaxing against the rumbling chest and the therapeutic pressure running up and down his back.

The second prawn, seeming to know when it was now best to crawl into the nest as well, curled up against Wikus' back. Nuzzling and settling its larger bulk against the smaller prawn, the warmth of the two larger creatures settling into Wikus' plating. For the first time in many nights, his body isn't wracked with shivers, the smaller prawn's eyes glazing from the comfort and warmth, antennas drooping, twitching repeatedly during his efforts to stay away.

He loses battle to sleep, vision fading to black surrounded by the streaked print of black letters on newspaper and twisted blankets, amidst the low clattering of mandibles and curled plates of the other prawns settling down with him.

* * *

**IV. Feed**

"Don't want." To the other prawns, his speech is still immature, broken and sprawn-like. Shivering and curling a tattered blanket around his shoulders, the smaller prawn forever seeming to be terribly plagued by the cold nights, much to the consternation of the other prawns.

One of the larger prawns clicks his mandible authoritatively, hefting the steaming piece of hot flesh towards him once again.

Wikus' stomach region churns, his human preconceptions still too strong for him to ignore. "It's raw!" He groans, eying the slab of fat and meat with abject horror.

The smaller prawn doesn't know where the group of prawns has managed scavenge so much fresh meat. Obviously they had left the barb-wired fences of the District, sneaking out in search of food. The meat could be from anything: goat, dog, gazelle…Wikus stopped himself from thinking further of all of the possibilities.

Another prawn slurps his piece of meat down―Jonathan, if he remembers the prawn's growl of his name ―with only three snaps of his sharp mandibles, chin and face streaked with red. Flicking his tentacles down the length of his gory talons, lapping up the tiny pink morsels that remain.

Jonathan also notes Wikus lack of interest in partaking of the fresh, glistening meat. Growling with little patience, far less than the first prawn that still persists in offering the quivering flesh, the larger prawn of the three strides over towards them.

Being so much larger, Jonathan isn't contested when he snatches the meat from the other's hands. Turning on Wikus, the large prawn grabs the smaller by the back of his head. Holding Wikus as he wriggles and curses, Jonathan snaps off a small piece of meat with a sharp strike of his mandibles.

"What the fook-" Wikus exclamation is the opportunity to strike. Jonathan darting forward with the piece of meat clenched between his mandibles.

Wikus gurgles when the prawn shoves the piece of meat down his throat, the larger prawn's mandibles and tentacles preventing him from gagging or spitting out the flesh.

The smaller prawn's eyes bulge when he is released, clutching his throat with a hand as if he has ingested poison.

If he isn't mistaken, the other prawns shake with low rumbles of laughter―even Jonathan looking to bear a version of a prawn grin―as the large prawn shreds off another piece of flesh, but this time holding it out to Wikus.

Wikus isn't willing to test his luck. This time he takes the meat with a well-aimed glare and the drooped pout of his shoulders. Shuddering as he pops the meat into his mouth, while trying to ignore the sudden thrill deep within his stomach as the blood and quivering flesh shivers down his throat.

* * *

**V. Christopher**

Three years and the mother ship hovers above them, flanked by a menagerie of large ships. The District full of prawns raising fists into the air, a clatter of excited mandibles when the sides of the ships open to release a cloud of ship pods which slowly drop down to Earth, the human resistance ignored, their weapons inferior to the cannons and energy fields that surround the ships.

Prawns bedecked with black shoulder crests and ornate colored collars of metal step off the pods, greeting their smaller, starved fellows, the prawns sharing embraces and eager chatter as thousands upon thousands flood towards the drop ship sites.

Wikus lags behind, hiding behind one of the shacks. Peering up in awe and hesitation at the large ships. Was Christopher here, he wondered? Did he remember his promise?

Wikus races away from the ships, in the direction of the remains of Christopher's old shack. Anticipating that Christopher would meet him there, if the larger prawn intended to keep his word.

Wikus waits, huddled near the crumpled shack. Clawed hands wringing together, jumping and whipping his head around with each little sound, the smaller prawn certain that what he had heard was a footstep or exhalation of air.

When time passes, and the sun is dipping towards the horizon, Wikus sighs. Curling his arms around his shoulders, he plops down upon the thick dirt.

"He's not coming." His antennas droop, eyes sadly tracing the flakes of metal in the dusty soil.

"You have so little faith in me, Wikus?"

Wikus twists around, gasping at the sight of the larger prawn scaling down the side of a mountain of trash. "Christopher!" The smaller prawn stumbles over his feet in his haste to run towards the other prawn.

Christopher chuckles, catching Wikus before he trips and face plants onto the ground.

Wikus purrs, shivering as Christopher's hands curl over his shoulders, the other prawn's antennas nudging and waving around his.

"I have missed you, my friend." Christopher embraces Wikus.

Wikus shudders with broken laughter, clinging to the other prawn, "You came back."

"Yes." Christopher reluctantly pushes them apart. Taking a good look at Wikus, "You…you are so thin." He says with surprise.

Wikus ducks his head, embarrassed, "I don't think anyone here is well-fed or in too great of shape."

"True." Christopher agrees, "But you…you are smaller than the others. Even the ones who are clearly starved."

Wikus shrugs, helpless and unable to give the prawn adequate reason. They both knew that logically it was because Wikus had been human, lending his smaller Earth form would be somewhat reflected in his prawn shape and size.

"Wikus," Christopher drags Wikus' attention back to him, "I have the cure."

Those four words steal the air from his gills. Wikus trembles. "H-human..?"

At first Christopher believes that Wikus is shaking from relief and excitement. However, his opinion is negated by the wideness of the smaller prawn's eyes, and the tiny step back that Wikus takes.

"Wikus.."

"No." Wikus abruptly shakes his head. "Not them. Not one of them anymore. I can't even look at them without feeling disgust."

"Don't." Christopher holds out a curled hand, "Don't despise them. Not all humans are like those who have harmed you."

"But I can't look past that!" Wikus cries, "How can I look to those people as…as home..When those here in this District have looked out for me and treated me better than my own kind?"

"…What do you wish to do, then?"

Wikus darts towards Christopher, and the larger prawn willingly opens his arms to him. Wikus throwing himself against the other, wrapping his arms around Christopher's waist.

"Take me with you." Wikus hides his face against the larger one's chest, "Don't leave me here."

Christopher shudders. A mixture of the thought of willingly leaving Wikus, and the larger prawn responding to the warmth and feel of the smaller prawn fitting so perfectly within his arms.

Wikus' throat croaks sadly when Christopher hesitates too long with his answer. The smaller prawn dreading that the other one is preparing to shove him away.

Christopher purrs softly, brushing his mandibles and tentacles soothingly against the other prawn, antenna flicking and tickling Wikus', earning a startled giggle from the smaller prawn.

"Come with me." Christopher regrets abandoning his hold, but instead he transfers a hand to lie upon Wikus' shoulder. Tossing his head in the direction of the ship, Christopher eagerly begins to race in the direction of the mother ship. Wikus slower and less brave to leap the piles of trash, the smaller prawn still lacking confidence with his new body, but Christopher patiently and frequently turns back to pace him. The larger prawn protecting his back as the two beings race towards their future.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Flash of Moments2

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: Wikus centered. Later ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: R

Warnings: Language. Slash (and slash hints) between an alien and a human(Or who was human…).

Summary: Little moments in time…like the frozen image in a Polaroid…Before and after District 9.

Author's Note: These drabbles are not meant to interconnect. I place a note where any may connect…

Author's Note2: I don't know Christopher's son's name, but for some reason in the fics that I have read, I really liked Oliver…

* * *

**Much To Learn**  
(Sequel to His Allies)

It's hard to ignore the steady grumbles of his stomach. Wikus rubs the aching region, his talons clicking along the hard exoskeleton.

He's having little success in finding anything to eat. The pickings were few to begin with, and many other prawns have already scoured the area. The more seasoned hunters easily picking through the trash and finding enough to sate their hunger, while Wikus is left pawing through the remains.

He makes his way towards the perimeter of the large District, warily eying the tall fence. In the weak light of twilight, he catches glimpses of humans scattered about in groups outside the chain-link fence, a few sneering in his direction as the prawn noisily scrabbles down the piles of trash while he continues to search for food.

Suddenly, he is assailed by the familiar tang of meat. Antennas perking, Wikus raises his head. Eyes falling on the wet chunk of meat sitting in the middle of dust and newspaper, ringed by glistening ruby beads of blood.

The prawn trills in surprise, scurrying towards the fresh hank of meat. Flexing his prehensile mandibles, the smaller binary pair of arms unfurl from his chest with excitement, eagerly stretching in the direction of the meat.

'_Food!' _Wikus greedily snaps up the chunk of meat with his larger claws, his mouth washed by his salivary glands as he crouches over his prize.

Before he can partake, a loud shriek interrupts him.

Wikus shrieks as well, ducks and curls over his food as a larger prawn leaps over the mound of trash, snarling and straddling the terrified prawn.

The smaller prawn, utterly surprised from the sudden attack, haltingly chirrs and whines with confusion.

The meat is snatched from his hands before he can attempt to roll away or protect his prize by throwing himself over the piece of meat. Pawing at the air with his bare hands lightly soaked with the meat's fluids, Wikus trills, reaching beseechingly towards the meat hanging from the large prawn's grasp.

The larger one bellows in fury, shaking the piece of meat in his hand in front of the smaller prawn's face.

"Idiot!" Wikus ducks his head in shame at the insult, the larger prawn snarling, his speech sharp, highlighted by his fury, "The humans lay out a trap, placing poison in meat for little prawns that don't bother to check their meal first!"

Wikus, stunned by the other's revelation, stares in dull stupor as the large prawn hurls the chunk of meat over the fence, in the direction of the group of snickering humans, no doubt the culprits who had laid out the bait for an unwitting prawn.

The humans shriek in alarm and disgust as the wet sack of meat smacks into their heads, spraying beads of blood over their faces and clothes.

"…I was hungry." Wikus' antennas hang down low, his eyes lowered to the dusty, filthy ground. Not meeting the other prawn's gaze. His hands curled together, folded against his chest as he folds into himself, depressed by the raised, furious voice of the large prawn, and the subsequent loss of his only food for the day.

"…" The larger prawn finally huffs a sigh, and shakes his head, "I can barely leave you alone without you getting into trouble." He growls.

"Not a sprawnling." Wikus pouts.

The other prawn lightly cuffs Wikus along the side of his head, a blow that would otherwise give any human a concussion, but merely causes Wikus to yelp and scratch at the scuff on his temple.

"Come." The prawn flexes to stand at his full height, pointedly nudging Wikus to follow with a small shove between his shoulders.

"Still hungry…" Wikus darts towards a can sticking out of a trash bag, but sadly drops it when the aluminum container turns out to be dry and empty.

"Follow me, and I will lead you to a meal." The prawn shoves him again, distracting him from another pile of trash. Wikus hisses at the other's insistent prodding, but subsides when the other prawn growls in warning.

"Who is not a sprawnling?" The larger prawn wonders out loud, guiding Wikus as they track back into the depths of the District.

If Wikus still possessed the human appendage, he would have stuck his tongue out at the larger prawn's back.

* * *

**A Flower**

It is rare for the prawns to truly become angry with another of their kind.

But Wikus has the illustrious skill of managing this feat.

And with none other than the top member of the pack of prawns who roam the southern-east section of the District.

"This will not continue." The alpha dog of the pack growls, brandishing the metal flower that Wikus has so painstakingly put together from the soda cans and metal scraps. The other prawns click their mandibles in agreement.

The prawn's smaller partner, crouched at the side of a large, busted couch, blinks his luminous eyes in Wikus' direction, "Such a fascination you have with the humans." He wonders, his pale caramel carapace warmed by the wane fire burning in the middle of the scattered group of prawns.

The leader snarls at the reminder from his mate, having been the one to catch Wikus…Again…in the act of trying to sneak out of the District to deliver his gift.

"Your dalliance endangers not only you, but also us as well." The leader's mate rises, kneading his partner's shoulders, trying to urge the prawn to sit and cease pacing.

Wikus shudders, wilting underneath the harsh reprimand. Knowing that his folly was inarguable and he is silently thankful for the mercy of the rash brush of luck that he had managed when the large leader literally snapped him off his feet, yanking him back onto the other side of the District fence before the patrolling guards had come around the corner and spotted Wikus during his escape.

The eldest of the group turns his umber gaze towards the contrite prawn, staring at Wikus for a long while, his gaze seeming to pierce Wikus' soul down to the core. "That world is no longer yours, child," The prawn's voice whisper-soft, "Do not chase after ghosts of memories."

Wikus always tells himself that his eyes shimmer and burn from the dust in the air as the prawn leader crushes the metal flower within his fingers, thus scattering the fleeting petals of forgone promises and hope.

* * *

**William**

Christopher has searched for over three hours, and he has yet to find Wikus.

His son scales a mound of trash, the young prawn grown by over four feet during the last three years. "Where is he, Father?" Oliver chirps, stretching his neck to its fullest length and scanning from side to side.

"I do not know." Christopher is eager to find Wikus, the battalion of ships looming across the country and planet, gathering the Poleepkwa refugees in order to return them home.

"I see something!" And Oliver is off chasing the speck of movement, his father hailing for his son to wait and slow down.

Oliver doggedly pursues the small figure, leaping and covering the separating distance. Shouting in triumph as he scoops up the shrieking sprawnling.

"That certainly is not Wikus." Christopher sighs, his head ringing from the panicked cries of the petrified sprawnling.

"Oh." As if realizing his error, but far too late after chasing the little creature so far, Oliver's antennas sink, "You're not Wikus. You're far too small."

The tiny prawn kicks and continues to wail, tiny hands raking down the larger prawn's wrists.

"Oliver!" Christopher strides towards his son, "You are scaring the poor creature." He chides, the young one trilling and flailing, flapping his stick-thin arms and too large ratty red shirt.

"_William!"_

Christopher and Oliver both jump at the panicked cry, Christopher leaping around his son to intercept the other prawn running towards them.

The smaller prawn growls, hands curled, claws flexing as he snarls at the two other prawns. "Let my son go!" The tiny prawn wriggles within Oliver's grip, trilling, stretching his arms in his father's direction.

"W.." Christopher is in awe. Recognizing the prawn from his scent, "Wikus.."

The smaller prawn's arms fall slack, hanging from his sides. "…Christopher?" Wikus haltingly steps towards him, eying the other prawn with distrust, but a glimmer of hope slowly overlapping his innate hesitation.

Oliver's hands slacken from surprise long enough for the tiny sprawnling to twist free, tumbling to the ground and sending up a puff of dust.

The young one bound towards his father, wrapping his arms and legs around his father's leg, burying his face into Wikus' warm plating.

Wikus diverts his attention from the two familiar prawns, and down towards his scared son. Bending down, curling his arms around the whimpering child.

"Hush, William." Wikus purrs, soothing his son, carefully unlatching the tiny prawn's limbs from their near unbreakable embrace. He stands again, tucking William against his chest, his son burying his face into Wikus' chest and shirt, while peeking in Christopher and Oliver's direction.

"He's a little Wikus!" Oliver purrs, bobbing his head and peering at the little sprawn. Earning a warning growl from William, the little one still not too happy about the sudden chase and capture from earlier.

Christopher dares a step closer as well, and Wikus twists his son around for the older prawn to inspect.

William blinks at Christopher in curiosity. When Christopher cups his hand upon the young one's head, gently massaging the smooth plates with his thumb, William shivers with delight, purring like a kitten, butting his head against the elder's hand. Oliver pouting in the background, sullen from William's less-than-enthusiastic greeting.

"Your son…" Christopher says with wonder. Reverently inspecting and touching the young, precious life, "You had a son."

Wikus shyly ducks his head. "…Things…happened. But.." His mandibles curl with undisguised delight, "He's all mine." Wikus states proudly, and William peeps with agreement.

"He's absolutely wonderful." Christopher's antennas perk when Wikus' expression melts with embarrassment and pride, the smaller prawn's reaction settling a deep ball of warmth in his stomach.

"Hey!" Oliver pipes, bouncing with excitement as he comes to a realization, "This means I'm a big brother now, right? Right?"

Christopher looks to Wikus, wishing to ascertain his reaction to such a claim.

When Wikus merely smiles, gently nuzzling his face with William's, the little sprawnling shrieking with delight when his father's tentacles tickle his antennas, Christopher's chest swells with pride, a molten wash of want and completion clashing and challenging with each other. Wanting to curl around the young father and son and protect them from harm, nestle them both into a deep, warm safe nest and hide them from the world.

"I don't hear any disagreement." Christopher leans forward, mimicking Wikus' gesture. Nuzzling the young sprawnling, hovering over both Wikus and William, mesmerized by the novel sight and affection of father and young son, the larger prawn breathing in the heady, soothing scent of contentment and absolute trust as Wikus allows them to investigate his precious creation. Oliver darting in to join his new family and William doesn't muster forward another growl at the overly familiar young prawn, too comfortable between the warmth of the three prawns.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Flash of Moments3

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: Wikus centered. ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: R

Warnings: Language. Slash (and slash hints) between an alien and a human(Or who was human…).

Summary: Little moments in time…like the frozen image in a Polaroid…Before and after District 9.

Author's Note: These drabbles are not meant to interconnect. I'll place a note where any may connect…

* * *

**Fishing and Bartering**

('His Allies' series)

He has been living in the District long enough that Wikus feels obligated to pull his own weight.

He can manage, from his recollection from his time as a human, he can remember where to find resources on the outside. But getting there is the hard part.

He manages, bides his time and patiently scratches up the resources.

It is a delicate system of exchange and barter.

Wikus finds a prawn willing to show him the weakest points in the District's chain-link fence. Plenty of holes large enough for the smaller prawn to slither through.

Dragging an old canvas bag, Wikus dashes for his destination. Hulking under the tall bridge, out of sight of the cars and humans, the prawn peers into the deep murky water. The empty bag on the ground near his feet, the prawn carefully leaning over the slick moldy concrete embankment.

There!

Wikus swipes, slashing his claws through the water. Slapping the fish clear out of the water and onto land.

The foot long fish heaves, flapping and gasping for air. Wikus snatches up the meal and stuffs it into the canvas bag, well away from the water's edge.

But this fish isn't enough. Not by a long shot.

He continues to fish well into nightfall before the bag is little over half full. His eyes so much weaker than the other prawns', his night vision not allowing him to continue hunting.

Slinging the wet, dripping bag over his shoulder, he scrambles up the dry walls of the bank, ducking into tight alleys, wanting to make one final stop before he returns to the District.

These once a week excursions are too rare to pass up. Wikus, familiar with the layout of this part of town, hunkers down behind a fairly high-class restaurant and hotel. Waiting for the human porter to duck outside the back of the hotel with the trash from the kitchens.

Sure enough, several minutes after he arrives and is tucked within the shadows, the tall gaunt man swings the door open with a sharp kick. Grunting under the weight of the cardboard box full of meat.

Wikus sneers as the man tosses the perfectly fresh meat into the bin. Clearly, the human tourists and guests find it beneath them to partake on a steak served too rare, or a fish with one too many scales on its belly.

How proud these soft meat-bags are while the refuges several blocks away are starving.

Once the porter returns inside, and the door slams shut, Wikus scurries towards the large metal trash bin. Leaping up the catch the rim, and heaves his gaunt frame over the side to peer within.

'_Disgusting…' _He hisses. Not at the state of the meat, but at the sheer amount of waste, so much decent food left to rot away due to others' laziness.

A whole, perfectly gutted salmon is stuffed into his sack, as well as a bounty of cut meats and other bits of fish that were ordered back to the kitchen by stuffy restaurant guests.

Wikus will eagerly scrape up their garbage, willing to look at the nuggets of plenty rather than sneer at the filth and grime.

He is swift to return to the District, having spent long enough away.

Squeezing through the narrow hole in the fence, he is met with the prawn who had exchanged the whereabouts of the weak points.

As was their agreement, the prawn has first choice of Wikus' finds. The tall prawn gently opens the bag and peers inside, choosing two pieces of beef, mandibles clicking with approval and greed as he bows to Wikus before tucking away back to his shack, the exchange completed.

Wikus takes a moment to select one of the fish from the river, and a piece of steak from the restaurant, tucking his choices into the pocket of another smaller bag, stuffing the long cloth handle through the loop of his belt and pants.

He continues to trek through the District and back towards his den, stopping along the way at his other destinations.

The thin prawn lifts his head from his nest, uncurling from around his newborn offspring, and peers at Wikus curiously as the other small prawn ducks his head into the shack.

Wikus beckons the exhausted prawn closer, holding open the bag to show him the meat within.

The other prawn clicks with wonder, hesitantly peeking inside, and then looking to Wikus.

"Go ahead." Wikus urges.

From the nest, two sprawnlings peep for their parent―twins, extremely rare from one parent―and the tired prawn selects three fish from the river, head and antenna bowing in thanks before he shuffles back towards his nest and offspring. Crouching down within the tall mound of newspaper and allows his two young ones to swarm him, their little whimpers and cries muffled as their father gifts them with food.

Wikus retreats to allow the father and his offspring to eat in peace.

Not too far away, Wikus runs into the top prawn of the yard. And as the pecking order dictates―and quite honestly as he has no real choice in the matter―he willingly hands over the bag for inspection.

The large prawn unsurprisingly takes the whole salmon, and another choice piece for his mate. The prawn growls, leans forward and bumps his cheek plating against Wikus in approval for his bounty, and thus allows the smaller prawn to leave his sight without fear of disapproval or anger.

Wikus' energy is spent by the time he manages to wind his way towards the shack he has begun sharing with two other prawns. The long day of hunting and scurrying wearing on him.

He drops the bag of meat near the trash can where within a small fire crackles and burns. He steps aside to allow the other prawns to rustle through the bag and take their share, while Wikus pulls up his separate cloth sack and clutches his pieces against his chest.

Plopping down close to the warmth of the fire, Wikus idly chews at the still warm flesh of his fish, one of his roommates sitting at his side, the other prawn bumping his shoulder against Wikus' in acknowledgement and thanks for the meal, hunched over his piece of steak that he had snapped up from the bag.

Wikus purrs, and mimics the gesture. Glad to share the gift of a meal and full bellies, after so many days without.

* * *

**Thieves**

Wikus hides out of sight as the young human gang dares to break into the District, ignoring the signs warning of no humans trespassing into the enclosure.

But the young men, too pumped with adrenaline and seeking to prove their bravery and manliness, strut into the District, baying proudly, hounding the smaller of the prawns as the refugees duck for cover.

The armed guards will not do anything beyond continue to yell warnings to the young gangsters. Having learned from previous excursions not to venture into the District unless ordered, the prawns growing agitated as of late, and not taking too kindly to invading swarms.

The young men bang on the rickety walls of shacks, kicking dirt across the yards in order to snuff out fires. Laughing and swiping cans of cat food and other precious materials while the smaller prawns bleat and cry out in outrage, but are forced to heed the metal pipes and guns of the brazen humans.

A lone, young prawn shrieks in fear as the humans stumble upon him. The young father shielding his twin offspring as the humans kick dirt into his face, while his sons cry out, hiding within their father's arms.

Wikus snarls as one human smashes his pipe down on the father's unguarded back, the small prawn yelping, and then collapsing beneath another savage blow to his temple. His sons shriek from underneath the weight of their father, pinned by their protector while surrounded by a circling group of humans baying and cackling like hyenas.

Ducking out of his area of cover, Wikus bound towards the group, bellowing and leaping onto the back of one of the humans who had struck the other prawn.

The human shrieks, pale ivory skin splitting under Wikus' claws as the prawn scrabbles and grabs at his shoulders, using his weight to drag the human down to the ground.

Wikus yelps when the other humans begin to punch and kick at his back and sides, but he stubbornly hangs on. Snapping his sharp mandibles into the human's neck, hanging on like a bulldog as the pinned human bleats and wails, blood pouring from the wound.

The young prawn father stirs, carefully sitting up while pulling his sons up into his arms. The father trying to crawl away while protecting his offspring.

The human gang notices the prawn's attempts to scurry from sight, swinging around, and the leader of the gang raises his gun, aiming for the father's head.

The human doesn't manage to pull the trigger, the weapon―and a good length of his forearm―snapped off by the wicked mandibles and beak of the top prawn, the huge creature snarling, grinning around the severed limb and dangling weapon hanging from the appendage's clenched fingers.

Blood sprays, and the leader wails in agony and terror.

The blood and cries only draw the other prawns closer. Enraged by the shrieks of the smaller prawns, and the wailing cries of young sprawnlings, the leader prawn and his subordinates swarm from every direction, and tightly circle the pack of humans while howling their fury.

The leader's mate chirps and guides the young father and his offspring away, scooping up one of the twins and urges the father to follow, hastily leading them away from the battlefield as the other prawns leap upon the humans, giving them no opportunity to swing their weapons or fire off a shot.

Wikus groans as a pair of prawn hands yanks him up off the ground, one of the subordinates dragging him out from underneath the clash and dance of intermixed human and prawn legs.

"Is anything broken?" The prawn demands as he heaves Wikus onto his feet, and loops the smaller prawn's arm over his tall shoulder, wrapping an arm around Wikus' waist as the smaller swoons from the pain.

"N-No.." Wikus moans, clutching his side, "Just took…a bit of a beating.."

From not too far away, the prawns and humans mesh in an angry seam of combat, the prawns waving severed limbs in the air, unmoved by pleas or mercy, dragging the humans through the dirt and trash, clawing and gouging them, enraged by the humans' attack, instigated further by their leader's roars as he smears the human leader across the ground.

"Dirty thieves," The larger prawn spits in disgust, while he winds his arms tighter around Wikus, dipping his antennas to brush and trace the other prawn's face and neck, in search for any wounds he may have missed, "I will take you somewhere safe before I return as my leader commands."

"Are the others alright?" Wikus asks, hobbling alongside the other prawn, grimacing and heaving from the sting and clench of pain running throughout his body.

"You protected them, long enough for us to answer your cries." The other assures, murmuring for Wikus to stop asking questions and to follow him.

Wikus complies, shoulders relaxing with relief that the other prawn and his offspring were safe.

"Damn them…" Wikus hangs his head, curling against the other prawn's assuring bulk and warmth, "It seems like so few of these humans aren't rotten to the core."

The other prawn's mandibles curl as he chuckles ominously, "Fewer still we'll need to worry about once our leader is done with them."

Wikus isn't certain whether to feel sick or a wash of pride, as the leader answers the prawn's dark promise with an ear-splitting howl.

* * *

**Children**

(Sequel to William)

Aboard the mother ship, the vessel spearing the stars, speeding towards home, Christopher awoke from deep slumber. Spurred awake from the short, quiet whimpers of his bed fellow.

On the other side of their quarters, curled within the other nest, Wikus keened, waking from a nightmare and curling tightly around his young one. William whimpering, wrapping his thin arms around his father's neck.

"Wikus?" Christopher rises from the nest, but not before he nudges Oliver to lay back down, the older of the two young prawns chirring in discomfort at Wikus' cries.

Wikus shivered as Christopher crawls into the cocoon of pliable sheaths of material, the edges of the nest bend and yield against their weight like polyester and vinyl. "I…I remember…"

"What is it, Wikus?" Christopher curls against Wikus' back, purring and wrapping his hands around the smaller prawn's shoulders.

"…I killed them." Wikus keens. Rocking stiffly within Christopher's embrace, clutching William tightly to him, the smaller prawn whimpering at his father's soft cries, "All those eggs. Those young ones…I _laughed, _making a joke as the shack burned. I killed all those eggs, and I have the gall to hold this tiny life in my arms after murdering so many others."

Christopher stiffens, just as suddenly understanding what troubles Wikus terribly.

"That…" The larger prawn wraps himself around Wikus, murmuring for the smaller prawn to calm and hush, purring and nuzzling the whimpering prawn, "You only knew what the MNU had indoctrinated."

"That doesn't make me feel any better!"

"Listen." Christopher insists, answering William's keens by brushing his tentacles and antennas down the young one's pinched face, "Leave that past behind, Wikus. Look to your son. Look to _our_ sons. They represent everything that is good within us. So look to them now, in the present, and forget the darker parts of your past."

"Why do you pass forgiveness so easily?" Wikus turns partially within Christopher's tight embrace. William peeping, tucking his face against the larger prawn's chest as Wikus completely turns around within Christopher's arms, "After I threatened to take your son, after everything, how can your forgive that?"

"Because you are genuinely grieving over your error." Christopher lifts a hand, tracing the back of his claw down the carapace of Wikus' face, "I do not look into the face of a monster, Wikus. Only someone so cruel would disregard their past, but also continue their wrongs. But you…you suffer, when all I want for you is to heal and look towards the future. For all four of us."

"…" Wikus sniffles, burrowing into Christopher's chest, "Together?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Christopher muffles a chuckle into Wikus' shoulder as he feels the nest dip, Oliver crawling behind his father, purrs and settles in amongst his expanded family, "and I'm certain the little ones don't disagree."

In unison William and Oliver chirp with approval.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Flash of Moments4

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: Wikus centered. ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: R

Warnings: Language. Slash (and slash hints) between an alien and a human(Or who was human…).

Summary: Little moments in time…like the frozen image in a Polaroid…Before and after District 9.

Author's Note: These drabbles are not meant to interconnect. I'll place a note where any may connect…

* * *

**Integration**

Wikus tries to slink away on his hands and knees, his human hand dragging across the ground while his prawn hand slowly pulls his body weight. The hybrid cringes at the crunch of bones and the rending of meat as the prawns continue to scour Koopus' corpse, one of the prawns hissing like a cougar, crouches over the man's cracked torso.

Wikus must have dredged up a sound or gagged loudly when another prawn began to peel back the flesh of the man's dissected arm, curling the folds of skin back down along the limp fingers.

The prawns jerk their heads in his direction. Immediately hissing at the scent of another human.

"Shit. No-" Wikus crab walks backwards, feet kicking in the trash and dirt. Members of the prawn group break away from the carcass, stalking towards him, and several prawns crawl across the ground using their long, long limbs.

"Get away from me!" Wikus frantically digs his hand into a pocket and grabs a handful of paper money that he has managed to pilfer over the last seventy two hours. He flings the money towards the prawn group, praying that the allure of the cash would distract them. Even the prawns appreciated the value of money for commodities such as meat, but especially for purchasing cat food.

The prawns grind the pile of crumbled bills into the ground, continuing to close in.

The last dregs of courage within Wikus break. He spins around and leaps onto his feet, the hot breath of the prawns scorching the back of his neck.

The hybrid makes it only ten yards before he is tackled to the ground, long arms caging his shoulders while another prawn knocks his legs out from underneath.

Wikus wraps his arms around his head, curling to protect his soft underbelly.

The prawns' mandibles snicker in surprise at the sight of Wikus' prawn arm and eye, their senses confused by the alternating scent of human and prawn.

Wikus cringes when large, wicked sharp hands run through his hair, mapping the sprouting patches of carapace that peeks through broken human skin.

One of the prawns twists and tilts his head and face for inspection while the other scratches at the exoskeleton melded into the human dermal layers of his chest.

Wikus cries out when the pawing causes the flesh along the edge of his armored plates to shred. The hybrid tries to buck and twist free, and kicks furiously to try to ward the prawns off him.

It is no harder for the prawns to subdue the hybrid than it would to pin a distempered sprawnling. One prawn pins his knees, the other snagging his wrists and pins the two upper limbs to the ground.

Perhaps the prawns believe that they are aiding his metamorphosis. Surely there is no other reason for the prawns to swarm him, brushing their palms and mandibles down his exoskeleton while they snarl at the pale human meat melded to his prawn armor.

Wikus tells himself that while the prawns seek to rid the hybrid of his human taint. A large prawn hand welded over his mouth to stifle his screams as the others begin to peel and scratch away the taut ripping human flesh to reveal the soft new prawn layer. Peeling Wikus open like a grape.

* * *

**A Farwell To An Old Life**

Sequel to 'A Flower'(His Allies series)

Wikus senses the change in the air. The prawns throughout the sector of District 10 freeze, contemplating the stranger who enters their midst.

Wikus peers over a huge trash mountain, his heart sinking with shock. "T…" He levers over the ridge of the trash, yanked back by another prawn that chirrs for him to stay down, "Tania?"

The other prawns pause in the middle of their scavenging as they watch the female stranger. Very few have ever seen such a pale, fair headed female amongst them. The prawns more accommodated to the late Mbube's young girls and doped women wandering the yard.

Tania clutches the metal flower in between her tightly laced hands, her eyes twitching left and right like a hummingbird, frightened by so many of the refugees who surround her.

But oh, his sweet, brave Tania. No matter how fearful, she dares to step into the District, ignoring the pleas and curses of her father and friends. Wanting to see with her two eyes…Wanting to know the truth for herself without anyone giving a plastic fake smile while they pat her hand and ask her if she has ordered pretty flowers for her husband's empty grave.

"Tania.." Wikus struggles while the other prawn stubbornly clings to him, Michael pleading with Wikus to stay down.

"_Tania!"_

His wife raises her chin in his direction. Beautiful, smart Tania; she had learned the prawn language alongside her husband, smiling and making a joke that she could apply a second language to her resume should she choose.

"W-Wikus?"

Wikus nearly loses his plating when he tears free from the other prawn. Tumbling down the mountain of trash, Wikus crashes onto the ground, scrambling onto his feet, his long arms curled across his chest like a praying mantis, antennas quirked as he hunkers down underneath his wife's stunned incredulity.

"….Wikus.." Tania dares a step.

Wikus swallows a small sound, gulping to quash his sob of joy as his wife's face doesn't filter into horror or disgust.

"Tania," Wikus' tentacles and mandibles quirk into a rendition of a smile, "Baby…it's me."

Tania's eyes shimmer, her cheeks blossoming with a rose blush. She chokes out a sob and runs to Wikus, throwing herself into his arms, the metal flower clutched in one hand as she hangs onto her husband.

"_Wikus!" _Tania's tears spill down his shoulder. Wikus moans softly, burying his face into her soft hair. He breathes in the warm scent of cotton and soap, her soft lush body once a distant dream now a solid, frozen moment that he didn't want to ever let go.

Their fairytale meeting is shattered as the ghastly gray alpha prawn barrels down another pile of garbage, spurred by the calls of the young prawn who had desperately tried to hold Wikus back. The young prawn panicked, running for the safety and numbers of the larger prawns, petrified and certain that Wikus has been led into a trap.

Wikus and Tania cringe like two youngsters caught in a tryst by an enraged father. Wikus yelps, ducking down and shielding Tania as the larger prawn howls above them.

"Wikus!" Tania screams from within his curled arms.

"D-Don't hurt her!" Wikus pleads, hunched over the much smaller female.

The alpha snarls. His fury increased when he catches the betraying presence of the metal flower, like so many of the art pieces from weeks prior that he has snatched from Wikus when the smaller prawn was in preparation to leave the District and leave his gift at Tania's doorstep.

"I warned you!" The larger prawn paces, directing his ire elsewhere when he smashes his fist into the side of an empty, rusted fridge. The material cracking, a punched hole left in the piece of metal, "I warned you but still you continue this…affair!"

"It's her fault!" A voice shouts.

"Michael!" Wikus begs, "No! It's not what you think!" He turns partway towards the young prawn.

Michael's tangerine carapace shudders, his hackles raised. "She's like all the others! She'll lure you in until your back is turned…Then those men will hack you up into pieces and eat you!" He shrieks, glaring and spitting at the young woman as if she were a white witch cast into the middle of a wild rabble of pilgrims.

"No! No!" Wikus denies, trembling as more and more prawns appear, rattling their agreement, stirring the alpha further into more dangerous waters of his temper, "She isn't one of Mbube's women! Mbube is dead!"

"You don't know that!" Another prawn shouts.

"_**She's my wife!"**_

His admission works opposite of what he had hoped.

The prawns howl in outrage.

"No!" The alpha dismisses with an angry swipe of his hand, "Your old life is gone. **You**continue to fail to recognize this! You may hold her in your arms, but she is nothing more than a corpse. That past is long since dead!"

"Wikus.." Tania whimpers, frightened and shaking from the rising howls and circling of the angry crowd of prawns.

"Shhh." Wikus curls around her, "Baby. It's okay…"

But he knows that it is not okay. Tania is in far too much danger. And she wouldn't simply accept walking away. She would refuse. Threaten to call the police. She wouldn't agree to leave him.

But the police would laugh in her face if a hysterical woman came into their station claiming that her husband...a prawn…was being held against his will. And with no evidence of MNU's involvement during his metamorphosis, Tania would have no evidence from there.

Wikus' embrace tightens painfully, wilting at the thought of the pain and ridicule she would suffer if she took such steps to protect him and bring Wikus home.

"Tania-" Wikus is cut off as the prawns fall upon them, hands scratching and pulling at their shoulders and tightly wound arms. "Tania! You have to leave."

"No!"

"You have to leave me and not come back!"

"I…no.." Tania screams as thick arms wrap around her waist, lifting her off the ground, her arms stubbornly hanging onto Wikus.

"Baby, I love you so much." Wikus whispers, his words only for her ears, "But I can't let you waste away and suffer for me….Let me go."

"Wikus!"

"You have to go far away from here and not look back!" Wikus tries to hang on for one last fleeing moment, but he can only withhold for so long.

When the alpha prawn shoves the others away and grabs Wikus, it doesn't take more than a few seconds for the gray prawn to tear the smaller prawn out of the human female's arms.

Tania screams for him, screaming like a banshee as she is held back. Wikus is locked within the alpha's arms, hanging off the ground as he is hoisted away.

"Don't hurt her!" Wikus begs his arms wrapped above the thick pair circled around his waist.

"Get inside and stay here!" The prawn throws open the door of a shack and thrusts Wikus inside.

Wikus stumbles and flops onto his belly as the door slams shut. The smaller prawn shrieks in outrage when he hears something thump against door. When he rushes to the barrier, he finds that he cannot make it budge, the alpha having pushed something large and heavy in front of the door to block his exit.

Wikus smashes his fists against the door in outrage. His hisses and seethes, literally scales the walls and skittering across the ceiling. Peeking upside down out through the one grimy window.

The prawns continue to hound Tania. They shriek and herd her every step, forcing her to back away towards the tall District walls. The guards less than likely to interfere since so many warning signs have been placed around the District to forbid civilian access, and the men and women are not very forgiving of anyone daring or stupid enough to ignore the warnings and still step inside the concentration camp.

Tania finally runs when the alpha mocks a charge. The subordinates continue the chase, practically nipping at her heels, abandoning the chase when she is in sight of the fences.

Wikus drops from the ceiling, tumbles to the dirt-packed floor.

He curls up on the floor in fetal position, morose and shaking, listening to the ruckus of the angry prawns. Having no choice but forced to stay inside the barred shack until the leader will feel kind enough to eventually release him.

* * *

**The Want Of A Family**

Christopher shows the patience of a saint as he ignores the human female clinging to his waist; her persistence to try and keep him out of her home is fruitless.

"Leave us alone!" She screams, the other prawns from the mother ship hanging back, not sure what to make of this female or the spectacle she is making, "Get out of our house!"

"M-Ma'am," Christopher stubbornly uses the wall to pull him and the dead weight of the female, "I insist upon seeing Wikus Van der Merwe."

The female wails as he takes each step of the stairs, the prawn moving purposely up to the second floor.

This time the other Poleepkwas who accompany Christopher intervene before the shrieking female trips them both and sends the human and prawn pair toppling down the stairway. Christopher is silently thankful to be relieved of the woman.

He reaches what the humans would refer to as the bedroom. Finding the door is unlocked Christopher gently nudges the white frame to swing inward.

There is a sudden clatter and scurry, a gaunt prawn clambering to hide underneath a bed of shirts and blankets in the corner of the room. Wikus persistent in laying a nest inside his four-walled prison, no matter how many times Tania pleads and tries to coerce her 'husband' to use their bed.

"…Wikus." Christopher gasps.

Wikus' scrawny arms and hips are half-adorned with fresh pressed human clothing, a tailored blue shirt and black slacks forced onto him by the female. Tania insisting that her husband dress in preparation for work, the female seeming to forget that prawns are not allowed to be hired for work and that Wikus Van der Merwe has been listed dead for the last three years.

What is far sadder is that a pair of humans shoes had been forced onto Wikus, but the prawn managed to tear the confining leather off his too large feet. A well-brushed wig hangs askew on his head, kept up only by his drooped antennas.

The smaller prawn flinches and curls away from the larger Christopher, pulling up a blanket and tucking it over his head as if not seeing Christopher would make the larger prawn effectively disappear.

Christopher purrs assuredly, bends down to make himself look less intimidating as he crawls towards the frightened confused prawn.

"Wikus," Christopher coaxes the other prawn out from underneath the blanket, the rich green exoskeleton poking out as Wikus' head peeks out of a tiny hole of his cocoon.

"…" Wikus shivers, shoulders rattling underneath Christopher's hands.

"..she…she had a miscarriage…" Wikus' hands wring together, "Something turned out wrong, she wasn't the same after the baby was buried…she brought me here…said the three of us could be a _family_ again. But I had to be really quiet so the neighbors didn't notice anything was wrong."

Christopher gently slides the wig off Wikus' head. The smaller prawn sighs in relief to have the itchy sack of hair off.

Hesitantly Wikus dares to crawl into his arms, curling into Christopher. He buries his face into the larger prawn's neck.

"I don't like it here…I've been here for so long." He whimpers, the white walls, plump bed and dressers covered with knickknacks and picture frames are foreign to him, no matter the three years he has spent prisoner in this gilded cage, "C-Can I stay with you now?"

"Of course," Christopher would insist even if Wikus had wanted to remain, the imprisonment far from healthy, the young prawn socially stunted and regressed without the presence of his fellow Poleepkwas, "Oliver will be very excited to see you again."

Christopher cups the trembling hands within his, gently guiding the weakened prawn to stand, Wikus reluctant to leave his familiar nest, but with enough patient coaxing and guiding he follows Christopher out of the den that has held him for the last three years.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Flash of Moments5

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: Wikus centered. ChristopherxWikus.

Rating: R

Warnings: Language. Slash (and slash hints) between an alien and a human(Or who was human…).

Summary: Little moments in time…like the frozen image in a Polaroid…Before and after District 9.

Author's Note: These drabbles are not meant to interconnect unless explicity stated. I'll place a note where any may connect…

* * *

**Do Not Bite The Hand That Feeds You**

(Author's Note: My musing on the prawns responding not so favorably to the Nigerians killing and eating other prawns…)

Bodies soak in lakes and rivers of blood. Human weapons lie broken and scattered while prawns skitter and growl throughout the territory, brandishing their own weapons as they hunt down the Nigerians. Too many days and nights losing their kin to the mad obsession of the Nigerian leader has taken its toll on the interstellar refugees.

Obesandjo is sprawled across the dirt floor of his domicile. Wheelchair cast aside, his dead legs lie upon the ground like useless half-deflated sacks of meat.

The prawns' mandibles click and cackle together, their amusement grind across his ear drums like the boisterous yips of the hyenas. In the weak light of the lanterns, the glowing eyes and wicked curved exoskeletons lend the shadows of curled demons to rise up the walls and paint the metal ceiling of the Nigerian's metal fortress.

One large orange and black prawn, the leader, momentarily pauses his sharp nips on the dissected black arm; the large creature crouches over the ripped body of Obesandjo's black witch.

"What's the matter, Obesandjo?" The prawn growls, strips off another long dangling piece of meat from the limp arm, "You have no trouble eating prawns. Can't stomach the idea of cannibalizing your own species?" The large prawn grins around the half-gnawed forearm, glistening bone and stiff human fingers cracked open as the prawn suckles down the marrow.

Another prawn keens for the leader's attention. He stretches upward, rubbing against the larger prawn. The smaller prawn paws at the hunk of meat.

The larger barks a sharp growl, causing the smaller prawn to cringe and fall back. Abashed the smaller prawn begins to slink away, but then the leader's growl shifts into a purr.

The severed arm still clutched in one hand, the large prawn crawls closer to Obesandjo. He guides the smaller prawn to follow, the smaller gray companion curled against the larger prawn's chest as they loom above the fallen human.

"I wonder what your insides will look and taste like." Obesandjo's curses are intermingled with pathetic whimpering pleas as he is shoved onto his back. The larger prawn guides the smaller prawn's hands, sliding the curled claws down the sweating, wriggling human's stomach.

"No, no." The leader whispers, purring into the smaller prawn's ear canal, "You must split him open down the middle. But not too deep…mustn't tear or ruin the sweet organs inside." The smaller prawn whimpers and arches against the larger, eager prawn, the leader pushing forward, trapping the smaller prawn between him and the whimpering human.

Obesandjo finally screams as talons rake down the small stones of his nipples and hard flat pectorals, splitting open the dark coffee skin. The smaller prawn growls lavishly as pink glistening coils of intestines spill out of Obesandjo's stomach, the loops falling into his waist.

The larger prawn grins, hands buried inside the warm gush of blood and the throbbing sack of flesh. "The liver and heart are mine." He snarls, curling his hands around the organs, and he gives a sharp, stabbing jerk when his talons curl around the sweet morsels.

* * *

**Babysitting**

(Part of the 'His Allies' series)

Wikus doesn't know when it escalated.

Perhaps after he had been seen 'babysitting' the young prawn while their father was away…The image lends ideas to the other fathers in the sector.

All he had done was sit guard while the young father had left to scavenge for food. Wikus seated in front of the other prawn's shack while the twin offspring chirr and mock fight upon his lap and around his legs.

Wikus bemoaned his fate as one of the young one's yanked on his antenna, the larger prawn squinting his face in response to the sharp pain.

"Ow….ooow.." Wikus winces as he gently tugs the young clicking prawn off his slightly bent antenna, "L-Leave that alone, you." The young prawn warbles and clicks within his grip as he holds the wriggling creature away from him.

His twin yowls for attention. When ignored for what he considered too long he curls into a ball in Wikus' lap like a rollie pollie, sulkily pouting underneath his babysitter's gaze.

"Now don't you start..." Wikus warns, pulling both twins into his arms. He prays for patience as the twins begin another mock fight, hissing and curling their tiny claws at their brother.

Nearby another father chortles with laughter while crouched down beside his own youngster, a slim clawed hand gently held within his while his young one pokes and shifts through a nest of dry newspaper.

Wikus dredges up a glare at the chuckling prawn, sullen that his precarious position amongst two small squabbling youngsters garners no sympathy.

The very next day while Wikus takes upon babysitting duty with the twins yet again, the same father from the day before casually deposits his son several feet from Wikus. The new youngster chirrs excitedly before hopping forward to join the twins.

"W-wait a second!" Wikus stumbles to his feet, but is too late. The father already bounds away, taking to the roofs of the shack while he casually leaps from structure to structure.

Wikus mutters under his breath, a glowering crouched guard who hovers over his 'brood' while they act out a game of chase around his tall legs. The slightly older young prawn earns irate hisses when he clambers up Wikus' legs and clings to the larger prawn's shoulders, legs curled around Wikus' bicep while snickering proudly from his vantage point while the younger twins shriek and hop around Wikus while their opponent basks from his lofty position.

* * *

**Slight Mishap**

(Can be associated with my 'Leave and Forget' fic)

"Wikus?" Christopher scales a tall pillar of slate stone, overlooking the thin valley beneath the high ridge. The outskirts of the alien city are pocketed with crevices and slopping hills of rock and pillars of stone. The larger prawn is concerned to have lost the smaller prawn yet again after only an hour he had lost Wikus in the maze of hills several miles from his current vantage point.

He peeked over the rim of the tall pillar when he hears his son peeping for his attention.

Oliver bounces on his feet, the thick red vest thumping against his small chest. "Wikus is stuck and can't get down!" Oliver kindly relays to his father.

Christopher crawls down the face of the rock pillar, joining his son. "Do you mean he is trapped?"

"No." Oliver darts a few steps away, urging his father to quickly follow. "He can't move," Christopher sighs at the lack of detail that his son is unable to supply him, but he patiently follows his young one's urging to quicken their pace.

He realizes what Oliver has meant when they find Wikus.

Stuck like a cat up a tree, Wikus scowls from his position up the cliff. "See!" Oliver points dramatically up the wall of the cliff, "I told you he was stuck." He says proudly.

"I am not!" Wikus snaps while clinging stubbornly to the jutted piece of rock from where he is perched precariously over thirty feet off the ground. Christopher can only wonder what had incited the smaller prawn's curiosity enough to goad him to scramble up the cliff and the small handholds. He is certain Wikus was less than amused when he found that he could not make his way down the cliff just as easily. "…I just…don't feel like coming down right now." The smaller prawn mutters while avoiding a knowing gaze.

"You can make the drop." Christopher points out gently.

"I'll break my neck!"

"You will not." Christopher coaxes, "I will not let you fall and hurt yourself."

The larger prawn is certain he hears Wikus growl something like 'Easy for you to say from down there'.

"I can't!" Wikus insists as he harrowingly leans over the sharp edge of his perch, moaning softly at the sudden drop, "I can't…I hate heights. So stupid to crawl up here. I just wanted to get up higher and have a better look.."

"Oliver, please stand back." Christopher asks his son to step away. He curls his claws into the tiny handholds, testing the amount of pressure that he can safely apply, and begins to swiftly scale the cliff.

Wikus sheepishly hides his gaze behind a curled hand as if the dust and grit is bothering his eyes. "Hi." He is embarrassed by his predicament, but he leans forward and purrs with thanks as Christopher climbs up the wall beside him, nuzzling the smaller fearful prawn.

"I need you to trust me." Christopher coaxes Wikus forward. The smaller prawn hesitates, keens under his breath in fear and doubt, but at a snail-pace follows Christopher's guiding hands. Christopher instructs Wikus to curl his arms around the larger prawn's neck, one arm curled around Wikus' waist as the smaller prawn slides off the rocky perch.

Wikus swallows a frightened scream as they drop when Christopher suddenly releases his one handhold. The drop is over in a split second but it feels more like minutes.

A jolting tingle shoots up Christopher's legs when they hit the ground, the larger prawn easily absorbing the brunt of impact. Wikus still hangs on for dear life, nearly choking Christopher with his exuberance.

Oliver stands proud with his fists on his hips, declaring, "I saved you, Wikus! I found father and brought him here!" The small young one huffed, flaring his chest with gusto.

Wikus chuckles into Christopher's neck, clinging with all four limbs, still too rattled to let his savior go after the sudden drop, "You did good, kid." Wikus awards the young one while he is comfortable remaining within Christopher's arms since the larger prawn shows little interest in letting him go either.


End file.
